The Pre-Hangover Stage
by CretianStar
Summary: Who doesn't love a drunk Molly? Who equally doesn't love a drunk Sherlock. Will be two parter. Influenced by Sign of Three drunk Sherlock!
1. Consumption

A/N: So I watched the Sign of Three and Sherlock drunk is amazing! But I wanted to see what Molly would do. This is what I came up with. Honestly my drunk Molly was based on Hazel Hayes of ChewingSand on youtube. There's a specific video with Jack Howard and Sober Speaking, this is where my drunk speech from Molly came from.

DRUNK MOLLY, soon to be followed by DRUNK SHERLOCK!

* * *

"Molly where are you… your keys are in the door...are you drunk?!" Sherlock had strolled into the flat on one of Molly's rare nights off and clocked the prone figure on the sofa.

"Sherlock Holmes…" She raised her head the necessary two inches off the sofa to eyeball the detective. Her voice was cheerful and most definitely drunk. He almost sneered at the form bent over the sofa and then the pathologist wiggled her arse in his direction in a futile attempt to haul herself upright. That short blue dress was gorgeous on her, an old style from a department store but Molly had never worn it around him before.

"Where have you been Molly?" Sherlock's conscience warred with itself. Rapid fire thoughts; Need access to morgue, Molly too drunk to give access, is access immediately required, could sober up Molly, Molly in general state, Molly will break ankle at the angle in those shoes, black heels make Molly's legs look sexy, Molly should be put to bed, hangover huge, age and lack of experience working against her, do not call her before 12 in the afternoon tomorrow, Molly has evening shift tomorrow, lab access, tomorrow evening.

"Meeeeeeena took me out to some newwww jazz barrrrr and then Chloeeeee took us behind the sceeeeenes after her set." Molly was upright and staggering towards him. Sherlock threw an arm out to catch her prone form as she toppled in her heels. What he wasn't expecting was her to grab his arm and pull him down with her.

There was muffled grunts as Sherlock held most of his weight on his wrists, fighting criminals gave him quick reflexes but not he was on top of Molly Hooper whose reflexes were not so quick. She groaned from the carpeted floor and slowly rolled over, still caught in the embrace of Sherlock's arms. Then she giggled.

"Sherlock lock lock lock Hooooooooolmes." She whispered as he frowned. Sherlock pulled back to get up but Molly grabbed his coat sleeve to anchor him down, for such a diminutive woman she had an awful lot of strength. "I don't want Sherlock to know I'm drunk. He'll think I'm really stupid for imbibing alchooool because it's something the lower mortalssssss do." Molly leant close to his ear and Sherlock took a deep breath of her perfume. Vera Wang's Princess Power. Her lipstick had faded but her mascara was still firmly in place and her face powder was also still intact despite the heavy night.

Sherlock made his split second decision on how to play this one.

"Then we best be quiet before he hears your." He whispers back and Molly giggles again. "You're going to have to let me up so we can hide from Sherlock." Molly nods and releases her grip on him allowing the detective to pull back. Grabbing both hands, he hauls the pathologist upright who sways on her shoes once more and flumps back against the wall.

"The world is moving and my legs aren't!" She snorts back a laugh and grabs the door frame for support.

"Take the shoes off Molly." Sherlock kneels to unbuckle the straps on her shoes and hears her gasp.

"My own Prince Charming, but you're taking off this Cinderella's shoes!" She beams and slides against the wall again. Sherlock tactfully says nothing but puts both shoes by the doorway and leads her by the elbow into her bedroom. Even without the shoes she manages to trip up, face first onto the bed and Sherlock has to lead her back to the space in her bedroom.

"You need to get changed Molly." Sherlock sighs, the amusement of drunk Molly rapidly wearing off.

"Okay, can you undo my dress pleeeeeeeeeeease." She faces the mirror and wipes at her lips with a face wipe. Sherlock tenses briefly, it's just a dress, one little zip. Oh the zip goes from top to bottom, like one long strip of fabric. It's just Molly, good old plain helpful Molly, Molly Hooper, the woman who saved his life asking him to unzip her dress. That gorgeous blue dress that shows a body she always hides. Molly Hooper who apparently owns a garter belt and black stockings, Molly Hooper who looks amazing in black underwear.

"Undone, I'll turn around while you get changed further." Sherlock steps back hastily and spins to face the door.

"Do you know something, Sherlock Holmes is the most amazing man in the world. He knows it as well. I always thought I loved him. I don't think I love him. I admire him. Despite how horrible he has been to me, Meena tells me I'm a doormat when it comes to Sherlock Holmes." Molly rambles and Sherlock hears the springs depress as she sits down, probably to roll those stockings down her legs.

He doesn't know why he hasn't moved but he's frozen to the spot.

"I bought this underwear in the hope that Sherlock would see it, what a foolish dream. I'm just human to him, boring, plain and easy to read. He only has to bat his eyelashes and I'll give him things that Scotland Yard has denied him. What does that make me? Stupid probably…"

"You'll never be stupid in Sherlock's eyes Molly Hooper." Sherlock interrupts her and spins to see her staring blankly at him. "But before he sees drunk Molly you should probably sleep…" He doesn't want her to realise that it is Sherlock she's been talking to and she nods sleepily, yawning at his prompt. She falls back against the pillow and her eyes close almost immediately.

Awkwardly tugging the duvet from beneath her, Sherlock manages to kick away the arousing underwear and tuck Molly Hooper into bed. As he's about to stroll out of her flat he spies the packet of aspirin on the kitchen table and doubles back to the kitchen.

One bottle of water placed with two aspirins, already popped out of the packaging. In the off chance that Molly knocked the tablets off the table he left the packet beside them. That hangover would be huge.


	2. Fumes

A/N: Haha, funny story. You know I said it'd be up soon, well four months counts as soon right?! Right?!

I finally **finally **got round to writing drunk Sherlock.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Sherlock?" Molly tapped at the door. "Sherlock I'm sorry it's so late, I left my phone in my locker, it was in my other lab coat and …" She trailed off at the strange smell permeating from 221b. "Bloody hell Sherlock, you are a mess since John's left." She muttered under her breath.

It was 2am and she'd finally made it over to Baker Street. Having missed the text from five hours ago saying Sherlock urgently needed her she had scrabbled her belongings together as she left the staff entrance, flagged a cab and snuck her way into 221 Baker Street, wary of waking Mrs Hudson. Though if she'd had her night time soother she'd be out for the count. Molly had tiptoed up the stairs and gagged at the smell, she yanked her scarf over her nose and she stumbled towards the window. Allowing the fresher air of outside to waft in she snatched a newspaper from the table and tried to circulate the air. She finally spied Sherlock, half asleep on the sofa.

"Fucking idiot." She cursed, knotting her scarf tightly across her face before checking his pulse. Some mild alcohol inhalation, he'd be fine, this wasn't the worse Sherlock had inhaled. She sighed before slapping him hard across the face. He jumped up, arms raised drunkenly preparing for a fight.

"Whozzat." He slurred and Molly sighed again. He wasn't going to be able to stay here. She left the windows on lock to try and circulate some of the air without alerting thieves before searching around a swaying Sherlock for his got all the way to the kitchen, the scene of the experiment and requiring the back windows to be almost fully opened as the smell was so ludicrously strong before located it. It took another five precious minutes of oxygen to identify herself to the detective who was staring uncomprehendingly at her and another two after that to coax the annoying man into his coat before snatching her keys from the table.

Linking her arms with the insufferable man, she led him firmly down the stairs and scribbled a note for Mrs Hudson which she pinned to the bannister before locking the front door again.

"Moooolllyy Hoooooper." He slurred as she took his hand again and decided to walk part of the way to sober up the detective. "Did you knowwww Molly Hooooooooooooper that you are gorgeous?" He stared at her as they traipsed up the street. "Like you areeee beautifulll but I know I never saaaay it to you." He stumbled over a raised kerb and Molly grabbed him around the waist to stop him falling flat on his face. His arm slid around her shoulder and they lumber up the road, no different to any other drunken pair on the way home.

Finally, half way home, body aching at supporting the lanky frame of the detective Molly finally hails a cab. Sherlock has sobered up enough to support his own body weight and not sway too much, hopefully concealing his inhalation enough to deceive the cabbie. Giving her address to the driver Molly squeaks in surprise when Sherlock hauls her closer to him, rests him around her shoulder once more and presses a kiss into her hair.

"You smell so good Doctor Hooper." He lets out a sigh and Molly holds very still in his grasp.

Nothing more is said until the cab draws to a stop and she has to haul his drunken ass out of the black cab, play the driver, support the useless detective's weight as they balance up the stairs, unlock her front door, make sure she doesn't tread on a very grumpy Toby and dump the pain in the ass detective on the sofa. Where he landed with a thump.

He spreads himself on the afghan, still in his coat, face down on a pastel pink pillow and she groans. Thank fuck she has a day off tomorrow. She opts to feed Toby first, the cat mewing at her almost angrily until she delivers his Whiskers at the foot of the counter top before staring critically at the man on her sofa.

Part of her is willing to just leave him there and she's close to making that decision, her own aching body crying out for her bed when he opens one eye and stares at him. A smile spreads across his face and he sits upright once more.

"Mollyyyyyy." He beams and attempts to stand which Molly is quick to forestall.

"Let's get you on the sofa to sleep Sherlock? Hmm?" She questions lightly tugging his coat off of him. He seems to enjoy this new game and is soon toeing off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt and to Molly's embarrassment sliding out of his black trousers.

Red faced with mortification, she can't help but glimpse at the black boxers and pale form but quickly grabs the blanket off of her armchair and covers him back up.

"Night Sherlock!" She chirps and almost runs for her bedroom when his mumbled reply stops her.

"Goodnight my love." He murmurs back and she pauses, turns to staring at the now snoring detective before closing her bedroom door firmly.

"I'm never giving him ethanol again." She sighs, exasperated and exhausted, resolving to think of it no more and to fall into her own deep slumber.


End file.
